


Air

by TwoMenAndAGuava (drakkynfyre47)



Series: Night Shift [2]
Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: Claustrophobia, Gen, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:48:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5361974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drakkynfyre47/pseuds/TwoMenAndAGuava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LeBeau wasn't usually affected too much when he was down in the tunnels. Sure, he was claustrophobic. Sure, he had nearly suffocated inside Klink's safe. Sure, he got anxious just thinking about being trapped in the trunk of a car. But that didn't mean anything. Not really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Air

LeBeau wasn't usually affected too much when he was down in the tunnels. Sure, he was claustrophobic. Sure, he had nearly suffocated inside Klink's safe. Sure, he got anxious just thinking about being trapped in the trunk of a car. But that didn't mean anything. Not really.

When they were digging new tunnels, he always let the others go first. He'd never admit to being scared (especially not to Newkirk, though the Englishman did give him a few sidelong glances), but when he was honest with himself, he knew he was terrified, both of letting the others see, and of what would happen if he did panic. Colonel Hogan never questioned his desire to stay near the entrance, so he managed to escape the stomach-twisting feeling of impending doom that would inevitably descend if he were to go further than a few feet.

All of that was far from his mind now, as the last rumblings from the collapse faded from his ears. He stayed where he was, frozen in place, shaking so hard it seemed everything was vibrating. He glanced down, making sure he was uninjured. Suddenly, he remembered that someone else had been down here too. "Newkirk?"

There was no response. As he looked around desperately, the walls of the tunnel seemed suddenly so oppressive, so close, that he couldn't breathe. "Newkirk? Newkirk!" The air rasped in his throat as he struggled to stay calm. "Pierre! Where are you?"

A muffled, Cockney-accented voice answered him. "LeBeau? What 'appened?" Newkirk dragged himself upright, bracing one hand on what little was left of the tunnel wall. "You alright, mate?"

LeBeau's control finally snapped. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move. They were trapped, and he was going to die. His breath came fast, too fast, his voice sounded high and panicky even to his own ears. "I don't - I don't know - please - out-"

"Louis? What's wrong?" Newkirk frowned. He'd never seen LeBeau like this before, and it was starting to scare him. "Are you hurt, little mate?"

“N-n-n,” was all LeBeau could manage. He felt himself slip into that familiar peculiar disembodied state, the one that numbed him to the outside world and kept him from losing control completely. Not that this wasn't bad enough; it certainly was. But here in the dark, trapped in the tunnels with Newkirk, he couldn't afford to lose control. 

"Hey, Louis, it's me. It's okay, you're okay," Newkirk said softly, reaching out to touch his friend's arm. "Andrew's gone to get help. It's alright."

Through the fog in his brain, LeBeau felt Newkirk's hand rubbing soft smooth circles through the fabric. Oddly enough, the closeness was comforting rather than repulsive, and LeBeau relaxed just the tiniest bit. "P-Pierre -"

"Shh," Newkirk said. "Shh, shh, don't talk. It's okay." He paused. "Is this good, or should I stop?"

"N, nnn, don't," LeBeau gasped, leaning into his friend's arms. Newkirk responded, wrapping his arms around LeBeau immediately, rubbing his back with long smooth strokes. 

"'S alright, it's alright, Louis. I've got you. We'll be out of here soon." Newkirk continued to murmur soothing words until LeBeau stopped panicking, and they were finally free.

Slowly, the cloudiness in his head lifted. He could think again, breathe again, move again. He didn't particularly want to, now that he could take the time to reflect on it. "Thank you, Pierre," he mumbled. Maybe they did need to have a conversation about small spaces. He knew he could trust Newkirk with his life, and this would be no different.


End file.
